Decoration
by megyal
Summary: Harry gets another tattoo... and Draco gets his first. A little pain kink.


_A tattoo is a true poetic creation, and is always more than meets the eye. As a tattoo is grounded on living skin, so its essence emotes a poignancy unique to the mortal human condition. _  
V. Vale and Andrea Juno, Modern Primitives

If Draco Malfoy was feeling nervous, then he was doing his usual excellent job of hiding it. His face was in general lockdown, but with a sharp awareness in his eyes, and these same eyes flicked over at Harry, who was lounging with great patience in the waiting-area, and who had stiffened when the door-bell had chimed and Draco had walked in off Diagon Alley.

_Fuck it all,_ Harry thought uncharitably. _I see the bugger at work, and now here, on a frigging_ weekend. _Life hates me. Also, those green robes makes his eyes change colour. Also, why am I caring, again?_

Malfoy, oblivious to Harry's self-ranting, strolled over and settled in with casual grace right beside Harry in the red plastic seats. He tried on a small amused look for size as the chair covers squeaked beneath him.

"Hello, Harry," Malfoy said, using the fingertips of his left hand to stroke back long light strands of hair out of his face to behind his ear, revealing silver jewellery everywhere: three small hoops at the top of his ear, a diamond stud in the lobe of the same; a ring with an open-weave design on his thumb, and a sweet little dragon ring wrapped head-to-tail thrice around his forefinger. As Malfoy's hand went back down to rest on his knee, the little dragon gave Harry a saucy green-gemmed wink.

"Hi, Draco," Harry returned with what he hoped was companiable steadiness, slightly shocked at the earrings, and Malfoy gave him a strange look out of the corner of those light eyes. Harry had been receiving that _look _for quite a while now at the Ministry's offices, and he was _this close_ to grabbing Malfoy by the well-pressed collar and screaming at him to take a fucking picture, it would last him longer.

But it wouldn't do to yell at another junior Auror like that. Not even when said other junior Auror kept looking at Harry with a sort of guarded warmth. Malfoy shouldn't be allowed to _look _at him in such a friendly manner. He and Malfoy had too much background, a history which involved snarky interactions and the regular hex or two. There was something to be said for History, right?

Malfoy was twisting the dragon-ring around his finger absently, the bright light above them seeming to cascade around his light hair. Harry was starting to feel uncomfortable with Malfoy's relaxed stance; and when Harry was uncomfortable, Harry blabbed.

"Your ring winked at me," he blurted, and Malfoy made another soft smile without looking up. Harry began to feel desperate. "And I've never seen you with all this silver-stuff on before."

"You were watching me?" Malfoy's voice was low, his eyes still on his ring and before Harry could back-pedal, he shook his head slightly. "You know we're not allowed to wear jewelry to work, Potter. And my ring probably likes you."

He watched as Malfoy raised his slender hand, smooth knuckles towards him, and the little dragon leered at Harry from his finger. It wriggled, stark against the pale skin, preening outrageously and Harry couldn't help but chuckle. It really was the cutest thing, and Harry felt more than a little weird that he was associating words such as _cute _with Draco Malfoy.

"What are you getting?" Malfoy said suddenly, pulling back and tapping on the flirtatious little serpent with the forefinger of his other hand, as if in warning. Harry could have sworn that the dragon pouted.

"What? Oh...er, a Celtic lion design," Harry recalled. "On my back."

"How very Gryffindor of you, Harry," Malfoy chided, his tone mocking, but not quite enough to rile Harry. He beckoned to a magazine on the low glass-topped coffee-table in front of them, and it floated over willingly; Harry, not be outdone, cast his own wandless spell to get a magazine for himself. Good. A Quidditch one. "Although it might stand for Leo?" Malfoy continued, flipping pages loudly.

"Both. You?" Harry said, frowning at Malfoy's knowledge about his astrological inclinations. Hopefully he wouldn't remember about Harry's other inclinations. Fuck, how could he _not _recall? _Witch Weekly_ had mourned the loss of their Hero to other men, then promptly got over it, had a center-spread of him for three issues, and tried to have Best Bachelor for Harry competitions. They had had to pull some slightly fancy concealment spells on his skin, though. He turned a page in his magazine, not seeing the ads for broom-cleaning kits and charm-upgrades.

"I'll be just as clichéd as you. A Chinese tribal dragon. My first one with a needle...and maybe I'll put it somewhere...provocative." Malfoy turned to look at him, but Harry refused to catch return the favour, pretending to be deeply engrossed in reports of match-fixing. "The outside of my thigh?" Malfoy's voice was silky. "Or just the top of my hip. What do you think?"

"Hip," Harry croaked after an endless minute of Malfoy staring at the side of his head. "Hip, better."

Harry was cursing his regression to Neanderthal speech-patterns, but Malfoy seemed satisfied. He was about to say something else, though, and Harry braced himself, but to his undying relief, the door to the back of the parlour opened and the tall tanned tattoo-wizard that owned the place grinned at them. A young witch stepped around him, holding her robes out from her side gingerly and giving them both appraising looks as she exited onto the slightly damp street.

"Oy, Sir Harry Potter, the bastard!" Tenner's voice was at its usual grating volume, but Harry grinned. "Come on, you wanker. I haven't got all day." Tenner turned to look at Malfoy and inclined his head. "You too, mate. Another artist just came in."

Harry shook his head as he unfolded himself out of the seat and pinched Tenner on the bicep as he passed him by. Tenner guffawed, shoving Harry towards one of the dentist-style chairs, as Malfoy made his way sedately over to the other, where Tenner's former apprentice stood arranging her tools and the ink. She smiled at Harry, and motioned for Malfoy to have a seat. The other three artists were concentrating on their own work, scattered with wizards around the brightly-lit room.

"Well?" Tenner was waving a wand over his needles, knowing Harry preferred this instead of wand-application, and managing to glare simultaneously at the other clients who were gawking openly at Harry. "Strip, Petal."

Harry rolled his eyes over the ridiculous nickname Tenner had seen fit to give him because of his first tattoo, and shucked off his robes. Beneath them, he was wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and he pulled off the shirt, flinging it onto the seat as well. He could almost feel Malfoy's gaze taking in his other tattoos and held back a small smirk.

The lilies in an earthen pot was his favourite, colourfully representative of his parents (Tenner had blubbed a little over that one, the ponce, and then called him Petal when it was finished to hide his emotions). It took up the upper left of his chest, the sturdy earthenware jar starting almost near the inside of his elbow, the stalks of the delicate flowers trailing up and around his upper arm and ending up in stylised blooms that flourished and curled over his shoulder and down around to his nipple. Around his right bicep twisted three thick ropes of black barbed-wire, still in Tenner's distinct style. He really hadn't put a meaning to it, but Hermione said it was a nice symbol of their friendship through hard times. Ron had liked it so much, that he had gotten a matching one on his ankle. Hermione said she _might _come in next week, but Ron had already promised Harry that he would help him drag her in kicking and screaming, if needs be.

His third one, right in the small of his back, was a golden Snitch (of course), and Harry had asked that this one be charmed to move. Right now he could feel it flittering at Draco as he turned and stretched.

"Mercy, Potter," Draco remarked dryly, now out of his own expensive jade robes, unbuttoning his long-sleeved shirt far too slowly and seductively in Harry's opinion. "Pain-fetish, much?"

"It's decoration. Art for the body. If something is worth getting, sometimes it has to hurt," Harry retorted, turning to glare at him self-righteously and then raised his eyebrows at the sight of Draco's pale chest. He had a _nipple ring_. Harry felt his mouth go dry, and he lay down quickly on the chair that had been positioned flat by Tenner, cushioning his head with his hands, his face towards Draco; a sheaf of transfer paper waved in his face as Tenner confirmed his design, and then he was left to watch Draco hand over his own desired pattern as he felt Tenner clean the skin, spell away what hair he had on his back and then again with the cool liquid cleaning the space between his shoulder-blades.

He tried to shut his eyes as Draco pulled down one side of his khaki pants a little (Draco in muggle clothing was illegally sexy and he would have a talk with a senior about the ramifications of that) but his eyes, those double-crossing _bitches_, were fixed on the paleness of Draco's hip, the arch of the bone refined underneath the gloved fingers of the artist as she too removed little hair and applied the alcohol to the skin.

"Well, Potter." Draco was watching the artist carefully as she dampened his skin and then pressed his design firmly on, pulling away the paper and leaving the likeness of the tattoo. Standing over Harry, Tenner was doing the exact same thing at the exact same time, and it was all terribly intimate, as if he and Draco were caught up in some sort of..._event_. A sexy event. "I daresay I'm surprised. _Witch Weekly_ omitted all your decorations, but for what reason, I won't understand. Oh, yes, needle, please." He smiled at the witch's question. "Harry, will this hurt much?"

Harry was feeling tired of gaping at Draco, but he really couldn't help it. Draco read _Witch Weekly_, what the fuck. Draco had looked at those god-awful spreads they had coerced (nagged) him into, what the fuck. Draco noted _stuff _about him. What the _fuck_.

"Not as much as your first one," Harry replied, slow and careful, and Malfoy weighed him with his eyes.

"Yes. Hmm. _That _one was with a wand, and as you might recall, it's gone now."

A not-quite-tense silence ensued until Draco's artist spoke up.

"Oh, it won't hurt too much, dearie. At least, not as much as you want it to."

"Oh, maybe I want it to," Draco grinned wolfishly, and then locked eyes with Harry. "It's quite possible I've developed a pain-kink like Mr. Potter over there."

Harry would _not _swoon. He would _not_.

All through the process, Malfoy kept staring at him, blinking rapidly at first at the jabs of the needle. Harry closed his eyes now and again, breathing steadily to try and centralise the bittersweet pain of the steady tapping on his back, but every time he reopened them, Malfoy's grey eyes caught his. His mouth would be slightly open, his skin flushed a faint rosy shade, and the long lashes seeming to flutter and curve against his alabaster cheek. Harry had to admit to himself, grudgingly, that he was entranced.

Draco's tattoo was much smaller than his, and so he was finished first, the black dragon crawling with dark glee up his skin, and Malfoy lost his slight grimace as the artist murmured a sharp healing spell when she was finally finished. That was the good thing about wizarding tattoos. The healing process was immediate, without the need for the ointment and bandages Harry'd seen on some muggles, even though the area would still be tender.

Malfoy got up and twisted his torso, looking down and placing both his hands on either side of his new tattoo, framing it with obvious delight. Harry felt a mixture of relief and disappointment as he got dressed and went back out to the waiting room with the tattoo-artist to make his payments; but then he was back, right at Tenner's elbow as the tattoo-wizard sprayed and gelled, needling his way across Harry's skin.

"Looks good," he murmured, but Harry was looking in his face, and Harry saw that he was gazing not only at the tattoo, but the rest of Harry's body to boot. Harry flushed and Tenner made a non-committal grunt.

"Right, Petal." Tenner healed the skin, rubbing his fingers lightly over the design with affection. "Wonderful. Up you get."

Harry went to stand in front of the mirror charmed to show the viewer's back and was pleased. Tenner has done a marvelous job, and he really loved the simple strength of the lion, proud and large between the jut of his shoulder-blades. Not to mention it made his tanned back look sexy. The Snitch was beside itself to have company, and Harry smiled as it tickled.

When he turned to thank Tenner and pay him, Draco was gone.

He really wasn't as surprised as he let on to find Draco at his front door of his small house much later in the night, dressed all in black and looking like he was ready for his own center-piece. Although, from what Harry had heard, _Witch Weekly _was frothing at the mouth to get an exclusive on this particular Malfoy.

This particular Malfoy, however, refused to step inside until Harry answered his question.

"So?" Draco said, inspecting the nails of one long-fingered hand. "Are you and Tenner together?"

"What the hell, Malfoy? Get in, you're letting out all the heat."

"It's a yes-or-no question, _Harry_."

"Fuck, _Draco_, no." Harry refrained from grounding his teeth too hard. He was told he had a nice smile, and he would very much like to keep his mouth pretty. "We used to be, but not anymore. Get. In."

Draco slunk inside, his eyes roving on the comfortable existence of Harry Potter, all overstuffed pillows and pictures of friends everywhere. Harry folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, resting against the door and clearing his throat to get Draco's attention. He spread his arms in quizzical exasperation as Draco finally deigned to meet his eye.

"What do you want?" And Harry was very sorry that he had asked that, because Draco's eye took on a predatory sheen.

"Isn't it obvious? _You_, Harry. Is what I want. I've always known you were a bit slow, but really-"

"Wait." Harry held up a hand, stalling Draco's disparaging tone. Only a Malfoy would mix possible seduction with light insults. "_Me_? You can't possibly, Malfoy. We _work _together."

"And?"

Harry's fucking _slow _brain refused to come up with a proper answer, and while he was mulling it over, Draco was suddenly standing in his personal space. As in, two or three inches away. Harry was mortified...as in, mortified and _turned-on_. Draco suddenly gave a surprisingly open laugh and then kissed him solidly, surprising him into a full-body melt. He felt light touches shimmer up his arms, and grasp him around his tattoos, stroking and petting feverishly as Draco's tongue licked around his lips. Draco was making sure that his thigh was placed strategically between Harry's legs, rutting against him slowly, roughly, and counterpoint to the smooth strokes of his mouth. Harry, going very happily with the flow, put his hands in his hair and pulled, feeling the coolness of the silver earrings against the side of his hand. Draco arched his head back, stopping the kiss with a sharp cry, and Harry bit him almost savagely on the side of his neck, then sucked the bite.

"You said you might like a little pain, Draco," Harry panted against the reddened skin, and Draco moaned. "Is that true?"

"Believe it," came a strangled reply, and then a murmured spell that left them both shirtless, hot skin gliding together. Harry put his hand possessively on Draco's hip, where his pants hung low, and gripped the dragon-tattoo, causing Draco to wince and buck against him.

"Come on," Harry growled quite unnecessarily and then Apparated them both to his bedroom upstairs, lighting the room simultaneously.

Because once Harry Potter was set on a certain path, one would be slightly insane to try and stop him.

"Bite me again," Draco was saying breathlessly as he peeled off his black jeans and boxers, and worked at Harry's loose pants, throwing them away with abandon. Harry complied, shoving Draco to lay flat on the bed and immediately fixing his mouth on the pierced nipple that he had literally been daydreaming about all evening. He tugged on it with his teeth a little, and Draco shuddered, groaning louder.

"I've wanted this for so _long_," Draco said, low, and the tone of his voice stopped Harry cold. He rocked back onto his heels and looked down at the miles of creamy flesh under him and then met Draco's heated gaze, mercury in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Draco came up on his elbows, and bit his bottom lip.

"What?" Harry said awkwardly, pulling a hand through his hair. The look in Draco's eyes was something like lust. Only it had more...depth in it. More purpose. More emotional desire.  
_Shit_.

"Forget it, Potter. Let's ignore that, shall we?" Draco was brisk, reaching for Harry, who grabbed the slim wrist and held it still in the air. He could feel his Snitch tattoo fluttering curiously.

"How long?" He gave the wrist a small squeeze when Draco looked away, feeling the sharp bones pressed against his palm. Draco glared at him half-heartedly, and Harry gave his wrist a demanding shake. "How long?"

"Look at my ring, the little dragon," Draco replied in such a deadpanned non-sequitur, that Harry dropped his eyes to it. It was rippling hungrily against his finger, winking at Harry and generally being titillating. "It's been doing that for you from _before _the War. Even during it, whenever we happened to be working together. You never noticed, though."

Harry fixated on it, suddenly unwilling to look in Draco's face, afraid of what he might see there. That was, what, six or seven years now? Since they were both _eighteen_?

"I didn't understand what it was up to, either, until recently," Draco muttered, trying to pull away his hand and then giving up when Harry held on tight. "It was just doing what I felt."

There was a long suspense as Harry tried to think, and Draco squirmed beneath him, attempting to slither out and to get away. Harry placed his other hand on the pale chest, stilling him as Draco let out a small defeated huff of air.

He pulled Draco's trapped wrist closer to his face and then gave the squirming little dragon a gentle kiss. Immediately, it went still, almost relaxing happily, and the same thing occurred in Draco's body. Harry placed another kiss on it, breath warm against cool skin and Draco's thumb stroked the side of his mouth.

"I can't make any promises, Draco," Harry said honestly as he could, and he finally managed to look at down at his face. Draco looked nowhere as devastated as he should have been, with a phrase like that. Instead, he looked fairly calculating, devious in a hot way, and he smiled, white teeth glinting.

"Of course not, Harry. But you will soon, I wager."

He then proceeded to overwhelm Harry.

Draco started by rotating his wrist in Harry's hand and grasping on to _Harry's_ wrist, tugging him down for a kiss that was gentle and demanding at the same time. Harry's mind went up in flames, as Draco shifted and moved so that Harry was laying face-down on the bed and Draco hovering over him. He tried to turn his head and look to see what Draco was up to, and then felt the fine stroke of hair on his back, and a soft press of lips on the still-tender flesh of the tattoo. Harry gave out an _mmmm _of appreciation, and then rounded it out to a full moan as Draco bit the spot. It hurt, and it hurt good.

The Snitch was next to get Draco's ministrations and it flittered manically under Harry's skin as Draco left quick nips all around it, and then placated it with a long slow lick-and-bite combination. It was like getting the best tattoo of his life, Harry pondered in a haze, and he was bonelessly turned over and found himself with a groinful of hot, hard Malfoy, the lion tattoo on his back rasping against the cotton sheets.

"I think I caught the Snitch, _finally_," Draco announced smugly, leaning down to suck at Harry's barbed wires. "Why the hell did you get these? They're driving me mad."

Without waiting for an answer, he moved over the lilies and placed a chaste kiss on each flower, reverent and slow. Harry could hardly breathe. There seemed to be a damp heat pulsating around them both as Draco ground against him, cocks slipping together in agonising pleasure. They were both panting as Draco finally made his way to Harry's neck, biting hungrily as Harry pitched up, grabbing at Draco's back, clawing down it. There were sure to be welts on the skin tomorrow, but all Draco did was gasp loudly and squirm even more against Harry.

Draco grabbed his wrist again and kissed Harry's fingers much the way his had been kissed, and whispered against them: they were suddenly slick. He guided that same hand between them, easing up so that Harry could press them into him, rocking down a little, fucking them a little. His eyes fluttered shut and Harry's attention was split between the heated pulse of Draco clenching around two of his fingers, and the wispy vision of Draco's lashes.

When Draco finally allowed him to move his hand, he rested his palms flat on Harry's chest for support, rocking his whole body forward to kiss Harry, one hand sweeping behind him to clench Harry's cock upright. When he leaned back, Harry curled his toes at the sensation of pushing slowly up into Draco, a dark, heady sensation that prickled his skin.

"Oh, _fuck_," he whispered as Draco had fully engulfed him, looking down at him hungrily. Draco nodded.

"I know," he replied faintly, and flexed his thighs to move, gliding around Harry with tight heat. His hands were skittering all over Harry's skin in restless want, and it was too much for Harry, who pushed Draco off, ignoring the disappointed cry as he pulled out; he spun Draco back first on the bed, parting his thighs roughly and bending his knees, sliding back into the best place ever and watching Draco writhe and shake beneath him.

He felt like he could promise Draco _anything_, now, but wisely kissed him to keep from saying a word as his hips thrust and their skin slapped together in rhythm. He put one hand down beside Draco's head, and felt Draco wrap a long smooth leg around his arse, urging him on.

"I'm close," Draco spat out in a near sob. "_Harder_."

Harry could actually feel Draco's balls get even heavier against his as he obeyed, pistoning with abandon now, and it seemed like only a few seconds after he wrapped his hand around Draco's cock that Draco's body locked up, teetering marvelously at the edge, and then crashed over with strangled, panting moans, hoarse and pleasured as strands of come pulsed out between Harry's fingers.

Harry managed to hold out for a few moments more, but the spasming in Draco's passage wrestled him to completion, and he came hard, as if he was emptying his entire self into Draco.

"Oh, my god," he muttered as he collapsed against Draco, reveling in the stickiness between them. He could feel Draco chuckling beneath him, and rolled off, only to snuggle sleepily against him. He felt a cool rush of air as Draco cleaned them both, and he placed his hand over the dragon on Draco's hip, positioning it so that the dark form peeked through his splayed fingers.

He liked his hand there. It looked _nice _there. It was if his darker hand was artwork against Draco's milky tone; personal decoration by one HJ Potter. He wondered if he could emblazon himself right into Draco's bones.

"Well, well," Draco drawled, shifting so that they both could get some cover from the sheets. "Looks like you can make _some _promises now, right, Petal?"

Harry simply reached out and tugged the little dragon off Draco's finger, and putting it on his own; the little thing adjusted ecstatically to fit his broader digit, and settled in comfortably.

"Maybe," he said, and gave Draco a tug on his nipple-ring.

_finit_

* * *

Notes: I've read the idea of a moving charmed tattoo in _Never Was and Never Will Be_ (link: http :// l-morgan. 1026 . html )by **imorgan** and **mjadis** , who in turn said they borrowed it from Saberkat's_ Draco Malfoy and the Heart of Slytherin_. 

There is art that goes with this, drawn by yijichan (over at Livejournal): http :// i46 . photobucket . com / albums / f111 / lutchien /HP/hd2 . jpg. Of course, you have to get rid of all the spaces in the links.


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